


The Cheetos in Mom's Handbag

by Sheep_Dragon



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheep_Dragon/pseuds/Sheep_Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost memories begin to return as Claire and Owen struggle to find ways to round up the loose dinosaurs on Isla Nublar, find Owen's beloved Raptor, Blue and try not to get eaten by an old enemy that has swam from Isla Sorna.<br/>But Owen isn't the only one with a close bond and a T.Rex never forgets...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cheetos in Mom's Handbag

===San Diego===  
==2016==

It was their outspoken views about saving what remained of the Dinosaurs on Isla Nublar after what many were calling the 'Incident' in Jurassic World that brought them before the Masrani Corporation's Board of Directors.  
Claire had decided to keep the wavy look of her hair much to Owen's delight, though his face soured when the infernal white suit made another appearance, over the jeans and simple t-shirt of the last few weeks.  
Despite her best efforts, Claire had not managed to get Owen into a two piece suit for the occasion.  
"That's for my funeral!" He had protested when she had dug out a trim black number from the dark recesses of the wardrobe with a yellow sticky note clinging valiantly to the collar. It was curling with age from being in storage for years, but a skull and cross bones drawn crudely along with the untidy scrawl of; 'In the highly unlikely case of an Open Casket Funeral' in Owen's inappropriate humour was still faintly visible.  
As fortunate as he was not to be in that suit for the meeting, it had been a close call with the evil daggers Claire had sniped him with when he trotted out of the bedroom in board shorts. She got him out of those, but it was only because his red headed spitfire of a woman had been chopping up beef tomatoes for a salad with the biggest kitchen knife in the holder, which upon his entrance had been pointed in his direction with a barked order of 'Off!'  
Needless to say he had stripped right there in the kitchen. 

===Masrani Corp.=== 

Claire had bought Cheetos from the vending machine near their apartment, slipping them into her small over shoulder bag without a backwards glance, much to his puzzlement.  
"I thought you hated Cheetos?" He frowned remembering a drunken night a week past when they had been ranting about things they hadn't liked at each other over a bottle of top shelf tequila. Hoskins had featured high in both lists but Cheetos had come a close second on Claire's.  
"For luck I guess, it's something that's always nagged in the back of my head after that crash I was in with my mother when I was seven. I buy it on impulse thinking 'Oh I know who would love these!' But then when I have them in my hand i haven't the foggiest clue who I'd be referring to." Claire mumbled in mild irritation as she licked a finger and tried to get the smudge off a cackling Owen's cheek. "You've been fiddling with your bike this morning haven't you?"  
The ex-Raptor trainer stuck out his tongue at her childishly as they whirled around the revolving door and into a grand lobby that a handsome scruff like Owen really had no place in. With a deep sigh, she weaved through the other corporates like a swan on a lake, while her beau puddled like a duck, almost knocking several poor people off their feet as he tried to keep up with a swift footed Claire heading for the elevators that would take them to Reception Five on the top floor.  
"Man," he grumbled irritably, stuffed between a smugly smiling Claire and the wall, half pressed flat against the mahogany wood paneling and gold detailing of the lift. The rest of the spacious lift was squashed to the brim with men and women softly muttering to each other, typing away on their phones or gazing blankly at the elevator doors.  
They tumbled out on the top floor, a bemused receptionist giggling primly behind a clipboard as Owen plucked and preened at himself, trying to get his 'cool and casual' look back on track while his red headed partner merely brushed a non existent bit of dirt from her ivory skirt.  
"Ms. Dearing and Mr. Grady I expect?" The Receptionist asked when Claire made her way over, her white heels clicking on the floor. "The Directors will see you now."  
They were pointed to a room with a simple wooden door. "Here goes nothing." Owen shrugged, offering a hand which she took and squeezed gratefully with a tender smile, while her other hand reached for her purse and wrapped around the small packet of Cheetos in her bag and gave it a gentle squeeze to displace some air, bulging both ends like a stress toy, a sudden vision of reptilian yellow eyes flashing across her minds eye so quick she was sure she had imagined it.  
Here we go. 

===Isla Sorna===  
==1990==

"Claire." Her mother said sternly, crouching gracefully in her black stiletto heels, a clipboard in hand with a white lab coat flowing over her shoulders and bunching on the spotless shiny navy blue Lino flooring as she came to the five year old's level. "Can you be extra good for mommy?"  
The red headed child grinned cheekily at her, clutching a small teddy bear shaped like a cartoon apatosaurus. "Yes." She nodded eagerly, knowing she could hold this over Karen later. "I can be really good."  
The woman smiled back, "Now you have to promise that you won't touch anything okay?"  
Impatient with not getting anywhere, Claire pouted, "I promise mommy!" She bleated in frustration, prompting a laugh from the elder.  
Her mother rose, taking her hand and led her towards a sealed door. The keypad on the far wall lit up as the Dearing matriarch swiped her pass, the stilettos clicking a rhythm as she moved to type in her passcode, humming the numbers under her breath like a mantra.  
The bolt leapt free like a round from a shotgun, making Claire yelp as her mom pushed the door open with a grunt and a muffled grumble about 'cheap doors'. The air was hot and irritatingly dry behind the sterility, so much so that the bug free air caught the back of people's throats and gentle coughs behind hands could be heard from deeper in the Laboratory.  
"Dr. Dearing," a red faced tech called out after a moment of admiring the busy workspace, scampering up to the pair, files and sheafs of paper all over the place in his arms, "The Gallimimus is hatching in nest five!"  
Her mother froze, blinking like a startled deer in the headlights, before she was a whirlwind of action, calling for somebody called Henry to aid her, crouching next to her daughter dressed in white. "Claire, I need you to stay by mommy's desk okay? It's the one right at the back with Mommy's red handbag."  
Claire nodded in awe that she was given this task, trotting off as her parent 'click clicked' away with an excited gaggle of scientists. 

==Five Minutes Later==

The little girl with the red hair was bored.  
Her mother had not come back and there was only so much spinning she could do on the big black chair before her head began to hurt. So she left her toy sitting slumped in the seat beside the red handbag that was so bright under the lab lights you could mistake it for a flare and went to inspect one of the round islands in the room.  
She snagged a kick stool lingering in the corner beside a whiteboard and clambered aboard, peering into the brightly lit nest, gasping in delight at the giant egg at its epicentre snuggled under a toasty heat lamp.  
"I hope you are a big one." She shared deviously with a giggle, "Like Alan! He's my Apatosawus."  
As if in response, the egg tipped.  
"He's really good at giving hugs, especially if your sad." Claire rambled on to the egg that was beginning to quiver with more enthusiasm.  
A sharp crack made her flinch, her hands flying up from where they hand been resting on the gentle curve of the nest in a 'not my fault!' gesture. Curious, after a moment of no movement, she leaned closer once again, reaching out a chubby child's hand and tugging the egg to her. A large hairline crack marred the perfect shell at one side, before all at once it seemed to rupture as something thrashed inside.  
A dinosaur tumbled into the world, observed by a fascinated five year old.  
It was a dark grey and brown casting a peculiar pattern over the little creatures back. It pitifully called out, making the red haired child fidget on her stool, "Shhhh!" Claire whispered to the clamouring baby, "Mommy said we have to be quiet!"  
But the dinosaur did not quieten and Claire thought of a brilliant idea.  
She hopped off her stool and went to her mother's bright red bag, popping the clasp she began to dig around in its internal's. The child made a triumphant noise as a small packet of Cheetos were fished from the dark abyss, wiping her clammy hands on her ivory skirt as she struggled to pull apart the packet, that came appart with a startling pop.  
"Here!" She chirped, heaving herself back onto her stool with her prize. Small hands grabbed the dinosaur's tail, slipping on the egg goo as the red haired girl turned the head end of the bewildered and weak creature towards her. It's eyes, yellow and sleepy, were half lidded, what would one day be a powerful set of jaws opening wide, showing off its already impressive sharp teeth, a low hungry hiss, like a leaking gas pipe, erupting from the lizard's throat.  
Cheeto by Cheeto, the young Claire Dearing fed the baby Tyrannosaurus Rex.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where I'm going with this.  
> I just wanted Rexy and Claire to have a bit of history...


End file.
